


United We Stand

by SockLing



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And Dorian Smirks, Arranged Marriage, Cassandra Really is the Best, Cassandra is the Best, Confusing Wedding for Confused Dorian, Cullen Panics!, Dorian Also Hates a Tree, Dorian Hates Harpies, Dorian is Displeased, Dreams Are Rude, Fluff and Angst, Friendship is Magic, Interfering Friends, M/M, So Is Cullen, So is Alistair, Who Lays Down the Law, hints of PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6656218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SockLing/pseuds/SockLing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as Halward was about to ruin his life completely and utterly, a certain King Alistair dropped by Dorian's home in Tevinter to inform him of recent changes.  Namely that he was now in an arranged marriage with the Commander of Alistair's army, Cullen Rutherford.  Well, at least it was a man this time.</p><p> </p><p>{{Will be adding tags as we go~}}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dorian and the Harpy

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear... my first chaptered work in a very long time.
> 
> First off, this is a slight AU in that the Inquisition does not exist. Mystical. Alistair is the King of Fereldan, without Anora; Cullen is the Commander of his army; Dorian is still the Scion of House Pavus but he has not yet left Tevinter prior to all of this happening. Everyone else shall come along in their own time with their own roles.
> 
> Second, I am going to try to get a chapter out every Monday, at the least. If I get far enough ahead, I may make it two or three days a week. It all just depends on how quickly I write this out.
> 
> Either way, here we go and hope you enjoy~

Dorian could feel his nails starting to bite into the flesh of his palms, not at all shocked when he felt something warm and wet bubble up under his fingers. What had he been thinking? He had been naive to assume his father would give up on him, allow him to just go gallivanting through the entirety of Fereldan since that would keep him far away from Tevinter. But no; instead, some willowy woman was standing next to Halward, showing off her wedding dress.

“Is it not the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen? Oh, what a wonderful wedding this will be.”

She practically danced herself over to Dorian, the man sitting up further and further in his seat in a desperate attempt to get away from the harpy. Alas, his attempts were in vain as she planted her foul, painted lips against his cheek. Did she have no idea how to keep her Blighted mouth closed? The mage could feel the saliva cooling already, creating that sticky feeling on his skin he hated so much. Or he hated when women left it behind, at the very least. Just beyond her, Halward looked smug, the man who won the war. In only a few days time, Dorian was scheduled to leave the country altogether.

Instead, he was now bound to his home, to this harpy of a woman and to some sham of a life. And because she was so very far from who his intended originally was, Dorian knew this was his father’s answer to forcing his son to become the son he always wanted. This woman’s family had already been informed, dates had already been set. It was practically against the law at this point for Dorian to say no. And if he ran, he would be hunted down, dragged back to Tevinter and forced to marry her anyway. Perhaps after his father had used that blood magic ritual he kept threatening to change him with.

“Dorian, you should be happy.”

He was honestly choosing to ignore his father at that moment, knowing he might set his hair on fire should he actually listen. Be happy, he says. How could he possibly be happy when he was being forced to marry a woman? He refused to listen to his father and he refused to listen to this _person_ shrieking at him. Her voice must have been what abominations heard after their change. They must have been punished somehow, yes? This surely must have been it. Listening to the deranged shriekers for all eternity was a horrid punishment in Dorian’s mind.

Which is why he could no longer stand it. Ignoring his father’s glare and the whining of his _fiance_ , Dorian stood from his seat and simply left the room, quiet as a Chantry mouse. He would not scream or curse or give them the satisfaction of affecting him deeply. The servants he passed gave him pitying looks, knowing what sort of awful had just transpired. But they also knew to stay out of his way; a quiet Dorian was a Dorian on a war path.

So deeply entrenched in anger was the Tevinter mage, he failed to notice the entourage coming up to the doors of his home.

 

Dorian smirked in satisfaction when the tree was engulfed in flames, knowing it was his father’s favorite. If his father was going to destroy his life in the worst way possible, Dorian was going to get some sort of satisfaction. Burning down a tree seemed like the best way to go about this passive-aggressively. _“A lightning bolt hit it, father.”_ Well, Dorian certainly wouldn’t be lying if he went with that excuse. One just had to be more lenient in their ideas of a lightning bolt being an act of nature.

Stray magic happened all the time, after all. Particularly where Dorian was concerned.

He crossed his arms and continued to simply watch it burn, a smug smirk on his face. The servants were ignoring it as well, hiding away some buckets of water in case it got out of control. Though, anyone who knew Dorian knew it would **never** get out of control. It would look chaotic and cause damage, but only what he wanted. Vaguely, he heard the sound of the door closing, but he paid it no mind. After all, the servants were running about. In fact, they all seemed to be in a strange state of frenzy, more so than usual.

Dorian was too proud of his handiwork to pay more attention than that, however.

“Clearly I shouldn’t get on your bad side.”

The mage did not startle as he turned to the sound of an unfamiliar voice, and saw a rather stately red-head standing there. There was a grin on his features, completely undaunted by the show of magic and destruction. Something about him commanded respect and Dorian could not figure out why. Instead, he smirked at the man, waving his fingers under his arm. “Oh, I have infinitely better plans for the humans who upset me. Mostly, watching their favorite tree burn to the ground.”

The man chuckled then straightened up, Dorian a bit cautious of what was to come. “Well, you’re going to have burn trees elsewhere. You and I need to be heading off for Fereldan soon.”

“… I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, right! I’m awful at proper introductions; I usually have a herald for this. I am Alistair, the King of Fereldan, survivor of the Fifth Blight, and the man who is going to take you away for a different arranged marriage. And! Before you set my hair on fire – please don’t, I’m very fond of it – it’s an arranged marriage to one of our Commanders. A man.”

… what? Dorian was honestly confused; a king of Fereldan arranged a marriage between a male Commander and a male Tevinger mage? More importantly, “How did you get my dear father to agree to that one? He had just introduced me to my future **bride** , after all.” He spat the word with as much disdain as he could muster, though he was just further confused when the man’s grin stretched across his entire face… or so it seemed.

“I’m a king, people listen to me.”

“Which means you somehow got someone higher than my father to say ‘yes’ and shoved that in his smug face?”

“More or less. By the way, did your dad find the last living harpy or something? I told him the news and she just starts screaming, ‘No, you can’t do that, I’m supposed to have his babies, be buried with him, more creepy marriage ramblings here’.” Dorian did not guffaw at his impression of the woman, high pitched to the point of cracking followed by wailing and ugly sobbing. Clearly, the king was doing him a favor here, saving him from the true awful that would have been being married to a woman like that.

“You are not the only who wondered such a thing, Your Almighty Screeching Highness.” When he got the response of Alistair puffing out his chest and doing his best to look appropriately complimented, Dorian knew he was going to be able to get away with so much. At least Fereldans must have a sense of humor, if their king can handle being made fun of with such dignity. “Yes, well, if you are quite finished preening, perhaps you should allow me to take my leave to get packed? Before the harpy damages our ears and you agree to marry her instead just to make the bleeding stop.”

“… I never considered that. Perhaps I should help you so we can run? Very literally. I will throw armor off it helps us get away faster.”

“That just makes you an easier target to pin down and give her those babies.” Alistair’s nose wrinkled as he grabbed the front of the mage’s shirt to drag him inside, his pace near manic. Dorian chuckled to himself as he gave directions to his rooms, at the very least happy over the fact he was now to marry a man and not some harpy.


	2. Undeath Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... Cullen freaks out. Because he has a few prejudices. That he's really trying to get over, honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, chapter two everyone~ We're totally trucking along, huh? Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it~
> 
> And speaking of enjoying it, I want to thank everyone who has commented, bookmarked, and left kudos on this work already. It means a lot to me and really pushes me into actually writing the chapters. So thank you all~
> 
> And as always, I don't have a beta so sorry if there's anything wrong.

Cullen was bent over his desk, hands in his hair as he stared down at the letter glaring back at him. Marriage. _Marriage_. His king and best friend had arranged a marriage for him. With another man. A man from Tevinter. Who was also a mage. Who happened to specialize in necromancy.

“Oh Maker...”

He pushed his fingers the rest of the way through his hair then ran a hand over his face. What in the world had Alistair gotten him into? Why did he decide to marry Cullen off to a _man_? All right, so maybe Cullen had a lot of issues talking to women, let alone flirting and courting them. He was either too subtle or his affections were entirely unwanted and he was not about to force that on anyone. Which was another reason he hated this arranged marriage business. He was quite literally being forced onto some man who had never met him before.

Even if Cullen had noticed a few men in his life were… _attractive_ , he couldn’t say he would actually handle a relationship with one. Maybe this would just be a good political move and they could have lovers on the side? But oh, that made Cullen feel sleazy. He was supposed to be married to this man, supposed to be faithful and at least decent. And here he was, wondering who they would both sleep with before he even met the man.

The Tevinter mage.

The Tevinter necromancer.

Cullen’s forehead hit his desk with an audible thump, just leaving his head there even as he knew the parchment was already sealing to his skin. “What am I supposed to do?” The sound of the handle turning caught his attention and he lifted his head just as Cassandra came in, stopping in the doorway with a pointed look. He stared back, until something fell from above and blocked his view.

He reached up to snatch the parchment off his forehead as the corner of Cassandra’s lips quirked up. “A difficult afternoon, Cullen?”

“That is a delicate way of putting it. Has the king returned yet?”

Cassandra gave him some strange, almost sympathetic look before responding. “He has been seen a few miles from the entrance, with what appears to be the full entourage. Though the scouts have taken notice of an unknown man riding next to King Alistair.” Great, that must be his future husband. He dropped his face into his hands then looked at Cassandra through his fingers, who continued. “He is… handsome. But most assuredly not Fereldan. He is wearing a winter cloak.”

Cullen furrowed his brows. “This is the hot season.”

“And Tevinter is considerably warmer than Fereldan. Which means he may be a snuggler.”

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Cassandra smirked at him, as opposed to her usual glower when someone caught her being hopelessly romantic. But this was not hopeless romanticism, this was her trying to brighten his mood by making silly comments. At least she went with snuggling as opposed to a sex joke. Which Cullen nearly made himself choke just thinking about it. How did one even…? And handsome was a very masculine word, of which Cullen was not a huge fan. Men like The Iron Bull seemed like frightening bed partners and Blackwall was too manly. He carved wood and trained recruits!

Before he could spiral out of control into some frenzy of curiosity and fear, Cassandra spoke again. “You have time, Cullen. It will still take them an hour or more to arrive, and longer yet for them all to settle. And there are many months before the wedding will even take place. You have time to meet this man and learn about him, talk to him, perhaps discuss the future with him. He seems quite amenable thus far; the king has been heard laughing during most of the mountain pass. All shall be well.”

She nodded to him before leaving the room, presumably to go train with her Seekers. It left Cullen alone with his thoughts, swirling dangerously around his head.

Perhaps this man would be wonderful. Perhaps he was quiet, soft spoken, like that scullery maid had been. Or he could be sweet, the kind of person who left those little cakes on the corner of Cullen’s desk on bad days. But then he started to wonder how he could be anything but vile and disgusting when he raised the dead to fight his battles for him. A Tevinter mage, a snob who rubbed his magic in the faces of others to prove he was better than everyone. A man who mercilessly mocked the non-mages and demanded slaves to wait on him hand and foot.

His stomach churned violently and his pressed his fingertips to his eyelids, wondering if he could find a viable excuse to miss the arrival of his… _fiance_. To miss the man sneering at the hordes of soldiers and barking orders at the elven members of their army as if they were the slaves of his land. The more he thought about it, the more Cullen wanted to run. How could anyone think this was a good idea?

Cullen honestly wanted to get up and run, but there were suddenly trumpets filling the air and he knew his window had closed. They had arrived. Swallowing thickly, Cullen stood from his desk and left, walking along the battlements to get a look without having to go down and actually speak with anyone. He sees Alistair first, grinning from ear to ear as he comes in before he turns to watch the next man on horseback saunter in.

Wait, who managed to make a horse saunter anywhere?

The Commander furrowed his brows as the man in a winter cloak smirked, looking around at everyone before saying something to Alistair that made him laugh so loud, Cullen could hear it. He tried to lean in closer, to get a better look at what seemed to indeed be a very handsome face. Or, it wasn’t. Handsome was too masculine still, even for this man. He was no effeminate being, definitely more on the muscular side with an interesting mustache over his lip. During his assessment, he noticed Alistair suddenly pointed at him and the stranger turned to look.

Cullen’s eyes met his for a long moment before the stranger winked at him and returned to speaking with the others.

Shell shocked.

That was exactly what Cullen was. The man had been… something, Cullen still could find no good physical descriptor but it was enough to gain his attention. He was making the king laugh like Cullen hadn’t heard in years, and no one in the crowd was scowling at him yet. Which means he hadn’t said anything too acerbic yet. If anything, he seemed to be charming them? There were those who looked ready to throw themselves at his feet and declare him a god, in fact. Though most of those people seemed to be women.

From the staff on his back and the out of place winter cloak, this was his fiance from Tevinter, which meant the women would just have to be let down. There was a strange moment in which Cullen smirked to himself, feeling smug, before his cheeks felt hot and he ducked behind a parapet. Andraste’s flaming ass, what was he thinking? The man happened to be… pretty or something, he would figure it out, and suddenly he was becoming possessive over his future husband?

Oh damn, did that make him one of those horrible people who chose to love someone based on their looks?

_Who said anything about love, Cullen?_

His ears were burning as he dropped his face into his hands once again, rushing back to his office. He would be safe in there.

Except from his thoughts.


	3. So a Tevinter Mage and an Ex-Templar...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we go, the first real drama-bomb of the story. And it's a bit of a doozy. Before we get there, and I get comments on both Cullen and Dorian being out of character, there are reasons behind how both of them are acting. All of which will be explored later, in detail. So please, be patient on that one!
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy and I still have no beta~

Dorian drummed his fingers over his bicep as he waited at the chessboard, every so often looking over to the sundial in the middle of the garden. Two hours late. Dorian rolled his eyes as he watched another scout rush past him without saying a word. Or looking at him. So far, no one had outright said anything awful to him. In fact, he had received a far warmer welcome than he was anticipating, considering he was a mage from the Tevinter Imperium. Sure, not **every** story of Tevinter was true, but he certainly couldn’t deny many of them.

But despite the warm welcome, Dorian felt very out of place. His humor received more fans than at home, but no one ever really stayed to talk with him. Alistair was the exception, someone who had no problems having serious, deep discussions with Dorian about where the Tevinter Imperium should go, how it should be handled, what do to about the Circles, et cetera. Otherwise, the people seemed to be afraid of learning who Dorian might really be under all his bravado and caustic wit.

He could handle that; it had been worse in Tevinter.

He could handle that.

Really, he could.

He could not handle being snubbed by his future husband though. He had briefly seen the man when he arrived and the king had been gracious enough to point him out. There was quite a distance between them, but he had seemed quite handsome at the time. And he had been blushing~ It was terribly adorable and Dorian had immediately wondered just how far down that flush spread. Which may have lead to wondering just what the Commander was hiding under that awful outfit. But then he had run away and Alistair was leading Dorian further into the keep.

His fiance had been unseen since then, now a week later. After much prodding and whining from Dorian and the wrath of the King (which Dorian had a very difficult time picturing), the Commander agreed to meet Dorian over a chess match at midday. Nearing two and a half hours later, Dorian was still alone in the garden. He would never admit to it, but that did something strange to his chest. It felt tight with a deep pain.

Dorian knew this was an arranged marriage and his own feelings about the woman from before. It just truly felt awful to be on the receiving end of such a thing. At least the woman had proved she was a harpy before Dorian officially hated her; he hadn’t been able to say a single word to his husband-to-be. Was the man hating him on principle? His teeth ground together as he finally stood from his seat, covering the board and pieces in a layer of ice. “Have fun playing with others, Commander.”

He nodded smugly and crossed his arms again as he started to walk away, ignoring the way one of the scouts stopped to gawk at the board. So maybe he had used a little more ice than necessary and maybe he had created a perfect likeness of his scowling face. Any mage could have decided to take a liking to him and taunt the _dear Commander_ with it.

For a foolish second, he hoped the man would come running out and tell him to stop, to turn around and go sit back down, there had been war talks or something.

Instead, he walked through the door and into the little hall, taking a moment to take a deep breath in before plastering his trademark smirk on his face. He would **not** give anyone the satisfaction of knowing he felt unwanted, shunned, hated. And by his fiance, of all things. He supposed somewhere, some Old God was laughing at him, just spitting out some nonsense about how he had treated his fiance this way, now it was coming back on him.

Well, fuck the Old Gods.

Dorian held his head high, attempting to both look sassy and haughty at the same time. In his experience, that combination was most likely to keep away others. It worked. The people he would pass would acknowledge his existence – which was strangely heart-warming – but they did not stop to ask him any questions or engage in any small talk. Though one rather adorable little dwarf lady saw him and gave him a big grin as he passed, catching Dorian’s attention. He blinked owlishly at her until he smiled back, chuckling as she laughed and continued on her way.

He was going to continue on his, but he was stopped when he ran into something quite solid. And painful. “ _Venhedis!_ ” The curse slipped past his mouth as he rubbed his arm, wondering what could have cut into his arm enough to cause a bruise to start blooming almost immediately. He whipped his head around to glare at the cause, but stopped when he saw another man staring at him, like an elf facing a Tevinter slave caravan. Dorian did his best not to narrow his eyes at the man, instead plastering the smirk back on.

“Why, hello Commander.”

He saw Cullen swallow thickly, hand immediately going to rest on the sword at his side. And didn’t that sting? The Commander could not feel comfortable around Dorian unless he knew his sword was there. And not the fun kind of sword either. He clenched his teeth again then decided he would not allow this man to ruin his perfect teeth. “I don’t suppose you would be aware of the time, Commander?” He arched a brow at the man, getting a strangely hollow sense of satisfaction from watching the Commander of the king’s army all but squirm, his body language that of a man caught in his rude deeds.

“I, ah… yes, I am aware of the time.”

Dorian held his hands behind his back, so Cullen would not see him clenching his fingers into fists, nails biting in the scars he created from his first engagement. Still, he merely smirked at the other man. “One would think a Commander of a great army could learn to better manage his time. Keep the kingdom from falling and all that. After all, we could never risk allowing those horrid Vints or Orlesians to take control again.” He watched as the man actually flinched at his mention of his fellow Vints. He barely stopped his eyelid from twitching as he chuckled. “Oh, calm yourself, Commander. I hardly have the time to be planning secret coups; it’s all far too tedious for me. Giving orders, gathering information, sitting in on political meetings. I am far too young for such gray hairs already, though I suppose I would look rather distinguished. What say you?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground. “I… I guess so.”

“How reassuring, Commander. Your sincerity shall cause tears to flood down my face as I bow at your feet, ever so grateful for the approval from my husband.” Cullen’s flinch was much harsher than before and Dorian found he no longer cared for keeping things civil, for keeping up his charade. “You refuse to even speak to me like a normal human being. At least my previous fiance had the chance to prove herself to be a shrieking harpy before I decided I couldn’t stand her. Plus she had absolutely no sense of fashion.”

Wait, Dorian, stay on point.

“If you have such a problem with this _arrangement_ , perhaps you ought to speak with the King. I, for one, was quite excited to find someone who actually catered to my tastes and was willing to get to know a Vint. Unless you take offense to me being a man. Or you take offense to all of it and in which case, I have decided _your_ presence offends _me_. So I shall kindly remove myself from it. Good day, Commander. May your dick fall off and the Mabari hounds rip it shreds.”

He did an about face and immediately began waltzing in the other direction, determined to get as far away from the Commander as possible. However, he was stopped quite harshly by a forceful tug on his arm. Ignoring the panic bubbling up within him at the familiar feeling, he turned to glare daggers at the other man. “Unhand me. This instant.”

Cullen shook his head. “No, Dorian, I-”

“Oh, so you know the Vint’s name then?”

“Just stop! You’re acting like a child.” How dare he. Dorian had come here with all hopes of making it work, with plans on being civil and as charming as he could be. Dorian stared at him until the Commander looked away. “I said… unhand me.”

“No! You need to just stand there and listen.” How could Dorian listen? The panic in his chest was bubbling up more and more, closing off his throat and clawing at his brain with dark, evil tendrils. The chanting, the poor dead soul lying on the ground, the suppressant bindings around his wrists holding him to the floor. It was all coming back, swirling around the visage of a man he once called father. Dorian’s voice was a strained whisper when he spoke again. “Let me go.”

Cullen’s hand started to tighten as Dorian tried to peel his fingers off. The man was strong. As strong as those metal cuffs. His wounds barely healed, still not feeling safe after Alistair discovered him when he did not show up at the stables. His muscles were starting to tremble, he could feel it, but Cullen seemed oblivious, too caught in his own anger to realize Dorian was panicking. “You’re going to have to act better than this. You are in the king’s keep, where we hold ourselves a certain way.” It sounded just like him. He could see Cullen’s mouth moving, matching the words, but it sounded like Halward. Dorian kept trying to tell him to let go, he needed to go, just _let go, please_ , but Cullen was still speaking, too loud for Dorian to cut through.

“I think you should really meet with someone to talk about customary behavior here in Fereldan.” No. No, no, no. They would force it on him. Why was he never good enough for others? Why was he so offensive that people saw fit to just force him through awful situations to change him? Because how was Dorian to know that Cullen meant simply getting an etiquettes lesson when the last time this happened, he was nearly forcefully changed through magic? “… and maybe once you learn to act appropriately, we can tr-”

“Let me go!”

Dorian’s voice left him in a panicked shriek as his magic rushed out to push Cullen away, the man landing on his backside just a couple feet away. When the Commander looked up at Dorian, he knew the other man was seeing the fear on his face. Those other features softened but Dorian wasn’t having any of it. So he turned tail and fled, leaving behind a very guilty feeling Cullen and a mass of keep residents glaring at the Commander.

He left them all as he ran out the doors and out into the open air, trying to find someone or something to shelter him. As he looked around, suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of people he had never met before in his life in a country he had never visited before, there came a hand on his shoulder, something small and definitely more lady-like. His head whipped around to see a tall woman with dark hair and somewhat harsh features. But her face did not have the look of someone cruel or malicious, just someone with noble lines and more on her shoulders than most.

“I take it you are Dorian, then?”

Her accent… “Are you from Nevarra?”

“Yes. I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry and Right Hand of the Divine.” Dorian stared at her for a moment, letting it all sink in. It was strangely comforting to hear such a formal greeting; it reminded him of home, the parts that didn’t automatically scream terror and subservience. Eventually, he managed a weak chuckle. “Do you think you have a few more titles you could spit out? It’s so soothing to know someone has more titles than I do and get more exasperated with each one.”

It was a little stiff, probably out of practice, but she gave him a small smile and began to gently lead him away. It was so different from what Dorian assumed of her personality; he assumed she was a brazen woman, who simply took what she needed when she needed it, who could prove her worth over any man and knew it. And yet here she was, strangely gentle with him, merely taking him into a cozy little room surrounded in heat.

Oh, she had a fire going. Bless her very strong soul.

“Now then, I know I am not… the first choice for such matters, but I heard your distress in the Grand Hall. Would it help to speak of it? I may not be able to soothe you with placating words or hold your hand through it, but I am quite capable of listening without judgment.”

For a long moment, the mage just stared at her. But something in her eyes comforted him and he spilled his story, all the details, well into the night, unaware of what his story would set into motion.


	4. Cassandra the Wise, Varric the Meddler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is in trooouuuble.
> 
> No, really, that's about the gist of this particular chapter. Cullen is very much in trouble and Cassandra is very displeased with him. So, no beta for this chapter either, and enjoy!

Cullen felt like the biggest, Maker forsaken Blighter in all of Thedas.

He had locked himself away in his office, forcing the scouts, soldiers, and even his friends to slip orders, information, and personal letters underneath his door. Did he feel like a coward doing this? Of course he did, and he was supposed to be the fearless Commander of King Alistair’s army, ready to lead his men into battle from the front lines and die to protect his home. And yet he couldn’t leave his room for fear he would see Dorian again, and he would cause the man even more pain.

That look on the mage’s face as he pushed Cullen away with his magic had completely negated Cullen’s own reaction to such use. Cullen would have panicked like that years ago, until what he had seen in Kirkwall right before Alistair took him away and sent in his own men to deal with the aftermath. In the years since, Alistair and all the friends he made in Skyhold (and Varric from Kirkwall for some reason) had been working on slowly desensitizing him to magic, so he would never become Knight-Commander Meredith. If this had been before the Kirkwall incident, he would have never even have noticed that look of terror on the Tevinter mage’s face, instead lunging forward and being the first to demand he be made Tranquil.

He had, after all, used his magic to push away an ex-Templar.

Even thinking about the kind of man he once was, all Cullen could really focus on was that _face_. It was burnt into his mind and he wondered what had happened to the man to make him so terrified of whatever it was Cullen had done. Which, he knew had done _something_ , but he couldn’t figure out which part of it had been the part to destroy the man like that. What he said, when he grabbed him, when he wouldn’t let go, when h-

“How dare you!”

Cullen almost fell from his seat as his door suddenly flew open, which should have been locked. When he noticed the lock was still in tact, he wondered if Sera had perhaps lock picked his door. But all of that fell away when he saw Cassandra standing in his doorway before she came marching in, slamming her hands down onto his desk and invading any personal space he may have had to glare right into his eyes. The Commander barely opened his mouth before he was bombarded verbally. “That man is supposed to be your fiance and yet, you keep treating him like some speck of dust in the air. You ignore him and ignore him until he suddenly causes you an issue. And once he is taken care of, you ignore him further!

“He is in a foreign land, having agreed to marry a man he had never met before. And he came here with the hopes this man would be someone he could even love, a better choice than he would have ever gotten at home. And do **not** spout off your nonsense about how he has no choice! I suggest you actually spend time with Dorian before you decide he needs to learn some manners. I would also suggest you never touch him again, but that would be quite difficult as a couple soon to be married. Therefore, do not restrain him again.”

Cullen blinked dumbly at her, opening his mouth to respond until she somehow narrowed her eyes further. Without another word, she turned in place and walked back out of his office, slamming the door shut behind her. He stared at the door, eyes following the pattern of the grain as he let her words sink in. He had honestly been an ass, hadn’t he? Dorian was hurt Cullen had not come to see him for their chess game, their first meeting, and he had responded in a way that made sense. Cullen, on the other hand, had lashed out and treated the mage like some sort of misbehaving servant. Or slave.

He hung his head with a sigh. “Oh Maker...”

 

Days passed, then weeks passed. Cullen tried so hard to find Dorian again to appropriately apologize to him. The mage deserved that much. However, the mage had become like a ghost; he was impossible to find, let alone catch. And apparently he had made many friends since the last time Cullen had seen him. Sera would throw cookies at him from the roof of the tavern, yelling obscenities at him about what an awful mage hater he was. Varric would tut at him then would sometimes even seem to distract him from something, giving particularly elaborate stories, even for him.

The Commander knew Cassandra was on Dorian’s side; she was very verbal about it. The most surprising of his new friends, however, had been The Iron Bull. Enemies for centuries, he had expected hostilities between the two. Instead, Bull had become the man’s bodyguard. On the rare occasion someone would finally tell him Dorian was hiding in a room somewhere and he would go searching for him, the big Qunari was standing in front of the door, arms crossed and glaring at Cullen the second his eye fell on him. The Commander would ask if Dorian was in there, he would get a yes in response. When he asked if he could see him, the Bull would reach back to wrap a hand around the hilt of his war ax and Cullen would simply turn around and leave.

None of this was helping him apologize to Dorian though, nor was it helping them start forming a relationship. Cullen wanted to try and get to know the mage who was so utterly terrified of what Cullen had done. After weeks of getting nothing though, Cullen was starting to give up. Perhaps the mage was talking with someone to get the marriage annulled, though the Commander could not have blamed him for such an action. He would be a terrible husband to someone, quick to judge them and condemn them for their scared or hurt actions. Plus he apparently restrained his fiance instead of trying to just talk them into standing in one place.

Days followed his realization, and he stopped seeking Dorian out. Instead, he threw himself into his work, which was quickly becoming detrimental to his health. His own friends would watch him carefully as he rubbed his eyes at the War Table, focused on only one section of the map at a time. It was completely unlike the Commander, who could so easily focus on little details and the big picture at the same time; it was why he was the Commander of the army. Instead of eating most meals, he would be found reading over reports and intel as he nursed the same mug of ale all day.

“Curly...”

Cullen startled and looked to his side to see Varric standing next to him, shaking his head. He blinked a few times then set his reports down on the table. “Did you need something, Varric? I don’t mind helping with a genuine problem, but I’m a bit too busy for stories right now.”

“Why are you doing this?”

The Commander stared at the dwarf for a long moment before he decided to play dumb. “If you mean looking over my reports, that would be because we are fighting a war against that red lyrium you and I saw in Kirkwall.” He actually heard the dwarf tut at him and looked down with an incredulous look. Varric rolled his eyes. “Look Curly, you’re not helping anyone with this brooding martyr business. I knew an elf who did that once and it cost him a lot until Hawke swooped in as he does and gave him something better. All I’m saying is that not eating and weeping over field reports makes a great love story, but it doesn’t work so well in practice.”

Cullen watched him walk away. “… I’m not weeping.”

Well, perhaps not physically. But Cullen was feeling like an awful person inside and he felt that while he deserved it, it was awful to be completely ignored by his fiance. Though he supposed it was justice for how he had ignored Dorian when he had first arrived. How terrible the mage must have felt then, even worse than Cullen. At least Cullen deserved to be ignored right now, having done something to shake the Tevinter man so. He deserved whatever the mage thought of him, and then some. Cullen and the Maker would be harder on him than anyone else could possibly be anyway, so allow Dorian to think as he must.

“So it _is_ true; the dear Commander is being quite the brooding martyr. Is self-flagellation part of this redemption?”

Cullen spun quickly in his seat, seeing Dorian standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, hip cocked slightly to the side, pretending to be relaxed though he was already on the defensive. Seeing this, Cullen swallowed thickly then opened his mouth…


	5. DAI:FiM (Friendship is Magic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter "Friendship is Magic" because I'm a terrible person like that. Regardless, while Cullen is pulling martyrdom level moping around the keep, Dorian has been meeting some of the very colorful residents and making more than just a single friend.
> 
> No beta~

During the weeks of Cullen’s self-loathing and realization, Dorian was off doing his own thing. He had felt spurned, ignored, hated, and terrified. Whereas he had initially come to this country with high hopes for a fun husband he could eventually love, he was now convinced this had all been a terrible idea and the King was a fool for doing all of this. Wasn’t there someone better, someone who had more of an interest in men without the need to control them? Surely there had to be _anyone_ else in the entire freezing country.

Dorian would be happy to take a farmer at this point.

Plastering on his trademark smirk as he grumbled just under his breath, he headed for the tavern to see what sort of swill he could get drunk off of. Immediately upon opening the door, he was accosted by the horrible off-key singing of a group in the corner while some lanky blond-haired elf cackled from the railing above. Apparently everyone else had left, though the mage could hardly blame them. The sounds were awful. However, he really just wanted to get drunk and what better way to do that than surrounded by a group of sweaty drunk men – and women, if his eyes weren’t deceiving him – who sang terrible songs about fighting?

The Tevinter practically glided over, sliding himself into a seat between a swaying dwarf and an elf with partially shaved hair. Everyone spared him a quick glance, but no one broke song and even kept dancing. Or whatever that strange, jerky movement could be called. Dorian startled a bit when a heavy mug was all but thrown into his hands, a large grey hand holding it mere seconds until Dorian clamped his hands down to keep it from slipping to the ground. He turned his head to see a large Qunari moving into a spot just a few seats away, a little further back from everyone else so he had room to stretch his legs out. The Qunari nodded to the song until it ended then pointed at Dorian.

Oh Maker.

“Hey Krem, we’ve got another Vint for you. Must feel like home now, huh?”

Next to the Qunari, Dorian noticed another human man roll his eyes. He didn’t respond as Dorian arched a brow in their direction, causing the Qunari to chuckle and take a swig of his drink before he opened his mouth again. “Since you’re not burning us to a crisp, welcome to the Chargers. I’m The Iron Bull, and this insubordinate second is Cremisius Aclassi.”

“It’s just Krem, don’t listen to him.”

Dorian considered the name for a moment, for both of them. Krem was definitely from Tevinter with a name like that. But the Qunari… _The_ Iron Bull? Dorian was under the impression the Qunari had no names, just titles. That was most certainly not a Qunari title, mostly considering it was in Trade. “I think I would much rather deal with someone named ‘Krem’ as opposed to ‘The Iron Bull.’ At least he knows how to respectfully shorten his name. Krem has a certain level of class that clearly all Vints look for when we meet other living creatures.”

Krem smirked at Bull, who just chuckled and downed the rest of his drink. “At least all you Vints know how to use those mouths.”

Oh. Well, Dorian just learned something about the Chief and his second, didn’t he? He absolutely could have resisted waggling his brows at the fellow Tevinter man, but he absolutely did not resist and finally took a swig from his own drink as Krem punched the Qunari in his side. Dorian thought it was strangely affectionate as he choked with no sense of grace on the drink, which only served to have everyone laughing at him. He set the mug down as he tried to rub his neck and soothe his burning throat – it was on fire! - but to no avail. The Qunari was laughing the loudest as the elf next to Dorian slapped his back, trying to be helpful but only serving to add insult to injury here. Or injury to insult, whichever. Finally, Dorian could breathe again and glared at Bull. “If you were trying to figure out what my throat could handle, you have gone about it completely wrong. I usually prefer a bedroom and the illicit affectation of not yet knowing your name.”

Bull stared at him for a moment before a grin stretched his maybe not completely gross features. He seemed to choose not to respond, but someone else did. “Wot? You mean you pretty types don’t want those candles and all that rubbish?” Dorian turned his head to see the elf girl staring at him, her face scrunched into an ugly version of confusion. He eventually just smirked at her. “Oh, you know, we pretty types are often too doted upon. It’s a woe of life for those of us with well liked faces. Such a burdensome life we live!” He sighed dramatically and even threw a hand up to his forehead for extra effect, listening to the elf cackle again. Honestly, did she not know how to laugh in a volume other than cackle?

But after a moment, he looked at the mug and remembered why he had come to the tavern. He was here to get drunk, to forget he was marrying someone who seemed to hate him and who wanted to control him apparently. Dorian narrowed his eyes and tilted his head back with the mug, downing all the rest of it. It burned his throat fiercely, but he was here to get drunk and forget everything that kept happening to him. His own father attempted something awful mere moments before Dorian was set to leave for something better, which turned out to be something full of disappointment and self-loathing. He could feel eyes on him, but he ignored them as he demanded another drink, feeling the alcohol settle warmly on his stomach and knowing it would set in quickly, stronger than anything he had ever had before.

 

For the next several weeks, Dorian went into a downward spiral of drinking and spending time with his new friends. It turned out Bull was incredibly protective, as apparently Dorian has spilled his stories when he was drunk one night, including how his new fiance reminded him of that last awful moment with his father. Whenever he finally retired for the night, or day, Bull would stand outside the door and turn away anyone who wasn’t Cassandra, Sera, or the King. Though they hardly bothered him once they saw Bull outside his door, knowing he was probably either sleeping or nursing some broken pride. Or broken anything, really.

Sera was incredibly protective too, though she showed it a different way. She spent all her time coming up with ways to prank the Commander, and went through with most of them. And whenever the Commander came around to ask about him, she would shove him through a secret opening somewhere nearby then give Cullen some of her normal attitude while Dorian had time to retreat with his tail between his legs. But it was Cassandra who was the most interesting of the friends he had made. She would protect him, but she also spoke to him calmly about giving Cullen another chance.

He learned a lot from her, including that Cullen had been a Templar at one point. The man had even stopped taking lyrium, which Dorian could concede was quite a feat. He hardly felt that gave the man reason to treat him like dirt though. The only time Dorian had performed any spells in front of him had been when he was terrified and pushed the man away from him with his magic. A lesser form of Mind Blast, really. She never pushed him though, merely suggested on occasion that he have a civil conversation with Cullen just once, to clear the air between them both. Dorian would consider it, but he never could quite figure out how to approach the other man.

Not until he met Varric, anyway.

“Hey Sparkler, got a moment?”

Dorian looked down at the dwarf who suddenly appeared, furrowing his brows. “Did you just call me sparkler?”

“Oh, don’t focus on that right now. Instead, I have something a bit more juicy for you.” He waited until Dorian rolled his eyes and made a gesture with his hand for him to continue. “Seems your fiance is intent on withering away. He’s pulling some penitent martyr act, hardly eating and sleeping. It would be a good plot if it wasn’t the Commander of a king’s army. Specifically our King. I love stories as much as the next guy, but maybe we should cut this one off before it becomes tragic. If Hawke taught me anything, it was that not every hero has to die.”

Varric didn’t even wait for a response, he just nodded and sauntered off, probably to go share outrageous stories with new recruits. Regardless, Dorian was sufficiently upset. Cullen was honestly going to act like the injured party in all of this? Dorian was the one who had suffered by his hands, by his inability to just come speak with Dorian and get to know him before making decisions. He gnashed his teeth together before storming off to find the Martyr Commander. He was outraged by all of this!

Sure, Dorian had taken to drinking and finding friends in some very unlikely places – especially Bull, the Qunari. But Dorian was the insulted one, the injured one.

At first, he narrowed his eyes when he saw the Commander hunched over a table in a side dining hall. However, he had an image to maintain, so instead he allowed his smirk to stretch one side of his lips as he silently approached the man, waiting just out of his eyesight. Dorian took in a quiet breath before he spoke. “So it _is_ true; the dear Commander is being quite the brooding martyr. Is self-flagellation part of this redemption?” As Cullen turned around quickly, Dorian did his best to fall into a relaxed position. The Commander stared at him for a long moment before he opened his mouth and Dorian prepared for some onslaught of insults and ha-

“I’m sorry.”

… what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, I'm still writing the next chapter. Things have not been going suuuuper for me lately. No matter what, it will be out next Monday, I'm just not sure I can guarantee it for Friday right now. Sorry!


	6. Stereotypical Arranged Marriage Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian accepts Cullen's apology and they share a few months of bonding. Because bonding is delicious.
> 
> Note: I'm not super pleased with this chapter, but I was even less pleased over the idea of erasing three pages of already written work to start over again. But most of the events causing me issues and writer's block have been taken care of so hopefully the next chapter will be much better, and posted on Friday.

Cullen was a lot of things. Everyone told him how brave he was, having survived the circle in Kinloch and the events of Kirkwall but coming out a better person after it all. They told him he was fair, he was kind but firm with his recruits, a man easily gotten along with after he cracked the first joke, someone people could go to when they are feeling overwhelmed. But the one thing Cullen knew he was, was a man who could _now_ admit to his faults. When it came to Dorian, he had been quick to judgment. He had been too harsh and never even gave the man a chance to prove that moment in the hall was just the actions and words of a man who felt scorned.

Cullen may not have reacted he same way as Dorian, but he wasn’t Dorian. He was his own person and not everyone reacted with graceful quiet. And Cullen certainly would not have been graceful before the events of Kirkwall. He would have thrown a tantrum, perhaps even worse than Dorian. At least the mage had known when to walk away, but Cullen had not let him. Cullen had grabbed him, restrained him, forced him to stay and listen as he all but demanded Dorian become a different person.

The Commander may have had good intentions; he didn’t mean for it to sound like an ultimatum. He had originally meant it as a suggestion, to learn the ways of Fereldan so he wouldn’t be judged while in the halls of Skyhold by nobles who couldn’t understand he was from a different land. He could see how it would be terrifying the way he did it though. To physically restrain a human being while telling them they needed to see someone about learning to behave…

Cullen had not gone about it with grace and dignity.

Still, his apology seemed to come as a shock to the other man, who was just staring at him with a strange expression. After a few moments of silence, Cullen decided to press on. “Don’t run off just yet. I really am sorry for what I did. I didn’t realize it at the time, but what I had meant as a suggestion very quickly turned into some sort of ultimatum. I honestly didn’t mean for it to sound as if you **had** to change or something, especially not for me. The nobles in court here can be vipers, quick to latch onto what they consider defects of personality and manners, and I didn’t want you to have to deal with that on top of everything else. But I was the one who acted like a child, restraining you and making demands, instead of merely talking with you. I guess I haven’t grown out of that ‘I’m a Templar, obey me’ phase as I thought.”

Wow, Cullen had not spoken so much at one time since he was young. But he needed to get all of that out there, to make sure Dorian understood everything was on Cullen’s end, not his. It was Cullen who had strange hang-ups he had been dealing with during the weeks of Dorian ignoring him. He realized he still had a few things to work past, leftovers from his time as a Templar who was scared of the mages he was in charge of. Dorian wasn’t one of those mages though, and Cullen had learned what fear of the mages could bring to those who went too far.

Finally, he heard a sigh and saw Dorian shaking his head, his arms falling from his chest into a more relaxed position. “You certainly know how to make an apology unnecessarily long-winded. The fact you even apologized is a very un-Tevinter thing to do so I was inclined to believe it. Now, if you’re quite done with all this martyr business, you still owe me a chess game. Though I believe I still need to unfreeze that chess board...”

“Unfreeze it?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen it? Then I would much rather watch you try to ‘overcome and conquer,’ is it? Maybe use that oh so daunting sword of yours to gracefully hack at it.” How did one gracefully hack anything? Based on Dorian’s smirk, it wasn’t even a possibility and Cullen was left shaking his head as he stood to follow the mage, who was already walking off without him towards the garden.

 

It took a couple of weeks of Cullen doing his best to be around the mage constantly, but Dorian seemed to finally be opening up to him. Though maybe it helped that Dorian was laughing until he cried because Cullen really did “gracefully hack” at the still frozen chess board just so they could play. That had certainly helped to loosen him up, anyway. And once Dorian was relaxed enough to be himself, he was a very charming man. His wit could be a little caustic, but so could Cullen’s when the mood struck him just right. The Commander ended up spending a lot of time biting his lip to keep himself from laughing at the expense of others as Dorian droned on in that way of his, always with perfect delivery.

There had actually been one moment Cullen wouldn’t soon forget.

At the time, he had been in his office, discussing a few troop movements with Cassandra. Her Seekers had made an accidental discovery regarding some unknown troops marching towards the borders of Fereldan. They had no banner, no heraldry, and no one spoke so there was no mention of their language or even accent. It had been as jarring for Cullen as it was Cassandra, who immediately came to him with the reports and began discussing where they should send people to gather more information and protect borders if need be. During the middle of this, Dorian came into his office and stopped just next to the doorway, a brow arched in his direction.

Cassandra turned to him and let out one of her fondly exasperated huffs. “Dorian, you will have to wait a moment; I have stolen the Commander for something urgent.” Just as Dorian opened his mouth to respond, she held up a hand for him to stop. “And before you get all huffy with me, you can always just resurrect yourself if you die from the wait.” Her tone was so flippant, so dismissive, that Cullen pressed his lips tightly together to stop himself from laughing. Though Dorian’s look of indignant disbelief certainly wasn’t helping. Finally, the other man huffed and stalked across the floor to flop rather ungracefully into the other chair Cullen brought in for him.

It only took a few more minutes before Cassandra straightened up, an authoritative stance. She spared a glance for Dorian then spoke. “I believe we are finished for the moment, Commander. I will relay the orders to my Seekers for now; you should handle your troops soon. And do not allow the mage’s pouting to persuade you otherwise. I know he excels at it, but it is always better to reward patience and discipline pouting.” She gave a curt nod, sending a smirk Dorian’s way, before she walked out of Cullen’s office.

“… I adore her.”

Cullen chuckled in surprise at Dorian’s words, not at all expecting him to say such a thing. “You adore her? She essentially calls you a child, and you adore her? Dorian, I’m starting to think you have some sort need to be on the nerves of everyone.” The Commander watched in amusement as Dorian scooted the large chair across the floor, to sit right up against his desk. It was strangely adorable to see the grown man so insistent on sitting near the Commander, but he certainly wasn’t going to say that to his face. … was he? “You are also adorably clingy.”

“Excuse me? I am neither adorable nor clingy. I am merely an openly affectionate man who gets exactly what I want. And what I wanted was to tell everyone to mind their own business and sneak back out of your office.”

“So, adorably clngy?”

Dorian would deny it vehemently later, but Cullen knew he saw the man pouting as he threw himself back into the chair, arms crossed over his chest. How could the man not be adorable when he reacted in such a way? After their initial rough start, he was quickly learning he found Dorian to be quite adorable. He was sassy, strangely sweet to his friends (while hiding it under the sass), very affectionate physically, and Cullen realized not too long ago that the mage typically followed him around like some imprinted Mabari pup. Even though it often involved Dorian’s typical sass, the Commander found it endearing and he was finding himself with some new thoughts.

Which mostly involved turning around to grab Dorian and kiss him until they were both breathless.

Something he still thought about doing, but Dorian was speaking and Cullen realized he had no idea what he was saying. Damn, maybe he should be paying attention. It was incredibly difficult though; he was stuck on the thought of kissing Dorian and now he had to watch those lips move to make words that were likely endearingly rude. Without thinking, Cullen leaned forward in his chair and cupped his hand behind the other man’s head, barely noticing when he stopped speaking to arch a brow at Cullen. Instead of answering, the Commander leaned further forward, almost out of his own seat, and sealed his lips to the mage’s. He felt a jolt, both in his own being and in the way Dorian startled from the shock of it.

He waited for the other man to push him away, but when the hands he thought were coming to push him simply slid up his shoulders and around his neck, Cullen’s control officially snapped. His other arm moved to brace Dorian’s back, pulling him closer until he was all but draped over the Commander’s lap, his lips moving smoothly against the mage’s. There wasn’t much effort on Cullen’s part to get the other man’s lips to part, as they seemed to naturally separate for him. Like the Commander he was, he took advantage of the situation and slipped his tongue through to twine with the other man’s.

For an entirely too short amount of time, Cullen felt the man’s fingers flexing and clenching against the skin of his neck, trying to push their bodies closer together. At least he was learning that he could potentially be snuggly with Dorian in the future, though that information had to be filed away until he wasn’t being completely distracted by the feeling of Dorian’s lips pressed to his. Or their chests so close that no parchment could get between them. It was all making him dizzy and he absolutely craved more of it, more contact, more kissing, more _something_.

His hands moved to hook under Dorian’s legs, originally with the plan to pull the mage into his lap and get as much as he could. However, there was a knock on his door and he startled back to his senses, separating from a slightly dazed looking Dorian just as Leliana came into his door. She blinked a few times then gave Cullen a _look_ and he just flushed a nice, deep red. Wait, why should he be embarrassed about kissing his fiance? Before he could think on it or even defend what they just did, the mage chuckled so very close to his ear and he jerked his head around to look at the smirking Vint.

“Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, Commander. I would much rather a shy Commander than a brainless Blighter who destroyed his precious mind by causing it to explode. It’s no fun if you can’t decide to do such… _sudden_ things on your own.” Dorian winked and lifted himself from his seat, all but skipping out the door. The second he was gone, Cullen’s head fell to the desk as he held his hand out for whatever reports his Spymaster was carrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be patient with me, guys. Writer's block got so bad... but I will do my best!


	7. Dreams Are a Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams really are just awful sometimes. Especially when Dorian wakes up from them.
> 
> Notes: I will be posting one more chapter this week, likely on Saturday. I'm doing this to catch back up to where I would have been if I hadn't posted only once last week. Then back to my twice a week postings!
> 
> Also, this is where the story starts to earn the explicit rating. Starts to. In fun ways.

Dorian was simply sitting by himself in his normal spot in the library, once again bemoaning the lack of proper Tevinter literature. He could hear Fiona sighing every time he yelled across the balcony to her, where she was sitting at a table to look over reports from the Circle. Hey, he needed someone to pay attention to him as he mocked the collection of tomes, journals, and treaties. He was busy thumbing through some terrible tome on the sexuality of his country when he realized he didn’t hear Fiona anymore. The mage looked up from the rather crude drawing of a man with his elven slave and arched a brow when he noticed he was completely alone.

“Scared off another mage, Dorian?”

He leaned over his chair to see Cullen coming up the stairs, chuckling to himself. Dorian heaved a rather dramatic sigh as the Commander came over to alcove and leaned against one of the bookshelves. That was quite the sexy pose, but the mage had a reputation to keep. “I can hardly be blamed if she doesn’t know how to handle the magnificence of perfection, Commander. I find that most people are simply overwhelmed being in my presence.”

“And that has nothing to do with your personality?”

Dorian would admit to pouting at the man before he huffed, causing a charming laugh to bubble up from the man’s chest. Well, making a sound like that, Dorian supposed he couldn’t totally hate the Commander. And especially not when he gave Dorian a look like **that**. The mage immediately tensed up, not at all sure where such an arousing expression had come from. Wherever it came from, it was delicious and the Tevinter man immediately shifted in his seat, one leg crossing over the other as Cullen pushed himself from his position leaning against the bookshelf and stalked closer to him. Since Dorian could think of no better word than “stalked” as his eyes moved up the lines of the other man’s body until they landed on the blown pupils of Cullen’s eyes.

His fingers dug into the arms of the chair as Cullen leaned down, his own hands covering Dorian’s as he used the arms to prop himself up. The scarred corner of his lips pulled up into an entirely too sinful smirk, his entire face an expression of promise that Dorian hoped he kept and then some. “Dorian, I think you’re too tense, and I believe I have some ideas on how to fix that.” Oh Maker, how he hoped those ideas all involved them both being naked. Together. He opened his mouth to say as such, but found himself immediately preoccupied with the man’s firm lips against his, tongue slipping in his mouth to play with his own. All of his tense muscles relaxed, hands still held in place by Cullen’s as he tilted his head to seal their lips more firmly.

Completely focused on how the Commander was practically plundering his mouth, he never noticed when the hands covering his own finally moved until they were working on the buckles of his outfit. He tried to pull back to ask Cullen what he was doing, but with the back of a chair preventing his escape as the other man just followed him to keep their lips sealed, he couldn’t find a way to manage. Dorian was left to just melt into the chair, at least able to move his hands to manipulate Cullen’s head into better positions for their kiss as his outfit finally started to fall open. If Dorian wasn’t so thoroughly enjoying himself, he might have admonished the man for initiating this somewhere so public.

Instead, he just managed to finally separate his lips from the Commander’s in time to groan as fingers wrapped his already more than interested erection.

Dorian’s own fingers moved to clutch the fabric of Cullen’s sleeves as the man smirked again, fingers teasing along the underside of his shaft. “See? You’re just far too tense for this to be healthy.” The mage snorted, an admittedly weak sound at the moment. The first time he attempted a response, he could managed a low groan as a single finger teased the hypersensitive skin of the head. It took considerable strength, but he finally managed a rather breathy response to the Commander. “You know, I wouldn’t be so _tense_ if you would stop doing thinks like being sexy.” Cullen chuckled and leaned forward to nip at the mage’s lower lip, his grin almost boyish in charm.

“No one said life was easy, Dorian.”

Dorian laughed then, since this was probably the easiest thing he could have dealt with in his life. It was fun, and absolutely welcome, especially as he watched the Commander slip back and down until he was kneeling between the mage’s legs. Oh, definitely easy. He held his breath as Cullen leaned forward, his lips scant inches from the base of his shaft when he suddenly stopped and opened his mouth.

“Dorian!”

The mage startled when he heard Fiona’s voice come from that sexy mouth, which was a total mood killer, and sat up. Wait, hadn’t he been sitting up? He blinked dumbly as he looked to the Grand Enchanter, whose cheeks were dusted with a light pink. She looked quite pissed – and maybe a little turned on? - as she tapped her foot, hands on her hips. Dorian then looked down to the table he was sitting at, seeing a small wet spot on the wood that made him rub his chin and almost wince when he realized there was dry saliva there. Fuck. He had only been dreaming.

“If you would kindly go to your room next time you decide you need to sleep, that would be _greatly_ appreciated. Not everyone wants to hear the sounds you make as you dream about the Commander.”

“… you seem like you enjoyed the sounds, Grand Enchanter.”

Her eyes narrowed as her blush turned a darker shade. Dorian tried to placate her with his charming smile, but instead of working, she raised her hand and Dorian very much recognized that blast of magic he felt.

 

Unlike his future husband, Cullen was actually getting work done. He wanted to nap, oh how he wanted sleep, but there was some strange threat rising up from the borders of Tevinter and he didn’t want Dorian finding out. He was getting very confusing reports about some Old God, Tevinter magisters, and that Maker be damned red lyrium. Because he really needed more of that in his life. He sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair as he tossed the reports to the corner of his desk. Maybe he would go find Dorian and ask the man for a game of chess to calm down. Or just listen to him give his opinions on the various nobles and high-ranking Chantry officials who came to Skyhold in droves. Just as the Commander decided he would, he heard the handle of his door move and smiled; only one person just waltzed into his office without knocking.

And when Dorian did enter, Cullen was immediately set into a raucous bout of laughter.

“Dorian, Maker, what did you do now?”

The mage narrowed his eyes at Cullen as he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to take on an angry stance. But it was so difficult to take him seriously when he had bright pink hair sticking straight up from his head. It was so much more hilarious knowing how much Dorian loved his hair and still had a hard time letting Cullen so much as breath near it. The Tevinter man huffed and glared over his shoulder back down the walkway to the door into Solas’ room. “The ever-so-wonderful Grand Enchanter decided she didn’t appreciate my comments. It’s absolutely dreadful, Cullen! You have to convince her to end the enchantment.”

Cullen pressed his lips together to keep from laughing further. “And why do I have to do it? You’re a grown man, I’m sure you’ll figure it out on your own.” He expected some sassy remark from the mage, but he didn’t expect his eyes to narrow further before he stalked across the room. The Commander blinked dumbly and pushed his chair back, ready to stand to stop Dorian from doing stupid, like destroying his office again. That had been incredibly difficult to clean back up.

Instead, the mage took up a spot on his lap and draped an arm around the back of his neck, cheek resting on top of Cullen’s head.

Uh…

“Well, this is new.”

Dorian snorted and nipped the top of Cullen’s ear, hard enough to make the man yelp and reach up to try and push his face back. “This is all your fault, you know. If only you had finished what you started, or hadn’t started it at all.” The Commander furrowed his brows, totally confused. He leaned his head back enough to turn and face the man, a brow arched to try and push him into further elaborating on what he meant. The mage sighed and rested his cheek on his knuckled, elbow braced on Cullen’s shoulder. “You had been just _moments_ away from getting those gorgeous lips around me.”

“Around y-oh.”

Cullen finally realized what Dorian met and he could feel the heat building in his cheeks. Then it really sank in and he narrowed his eyes. “Wait, I’ve never even tried anything like that yet.” Dorian smirked way too smugly when Cullen added the “yet” and it took all his willpower not to roll his eyes. Then the mage leaned forward until his lips rested on the shell of Cullen’s ear, making the man tense up as he whispered to him, “Perhaps not yet, not truly, but you certainly came close in my brilliant dreams and now I’m looking forward to it.”

“Ye-” Cullen coughed a bit to get his voice steadier. “Yes, well, you’re going to have to wait quite a bit for anything like that.” Dorian huffed right into his ear before leaning back with a sigh. “You have to be the least fun person here. At least that brute Iron Bull will give me appropriate banter. My future husband is absolutely dreadful at arousing dirty talk. However are we going to possibly fall into bed together at this point?”

Cullen wanted to slam his head to his desk as Dorian stood from his lap and sauntered back out the door, likely to go drown his “woes” in booze and shout with Iron Bull until everyone thought Dorian was already cheating on the Commander. Which, Cullen knew he wasn’t. But the fact remained that apparently Cullen couldn’t give Dorian exactly what he wanted and he needed to figure out how.

Soon.


	8. Idiocracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In summary: Cullen is an idiot and everyone is getting tired of it. Including himself.
> 
> Still no beta~ So if there are any problems, please let me know.

“And this would be a problem… how, Cullen?”

Cullen grumbled at Cassandra, who was standing in the corner of his office after locking all the doors. How could she not see there was a _massive_ problem here? It was one thing to kiss his fiance, he could still be in all the denial he wanted to be. Dorian was a handsome man, charming in a way that so few people seemed to understand and yet entirely insufferable. Cullen loved all those things about him, and they would have at least a friendly marriage. But this idea that they would actually be… _intimate_? That was entirely too much and the Commander had no idea how it could even be possible. His mind had immediately gone into turmoil not after Dorian told him about the dream, but after Cullen then had one of his own.

His had gone quite a bit further than Dorian’s, with the mage under him as he… well, he supposed it could only be described as pounding? Dream Dorian had seemed to love every second of it, but Cullen woke up feeling like some sick pervert with control issues. Why would his mind automatically assume that the mage was going to be on the receiving end of everything? What if Dorian wanted to be the one on top, which would be a problem since thinking that made the Commander tense up. It was not an idea that particularly appealed to him and he thought maybe that made him selfish.

While his mind was slowly spiraling into a pit of self-despair and hatred, Cassandra sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Cullen, I still fail to see how this is a problem. Should you not be physically attracted to your future husband? I am certain he would pull you into an abandoned hallway the moment you told him you had such dreams about him.” Cullen ran his hands over his face and peered out at the Nervarran woman. She seemed to know so much about the Tevinter mage, but she also seemed to be his advocate from the moment the man arrived. They had bonded over something and Cullen had no idea what it was or what happened or why people seemed to be hiding parts of Dorian’s life from him.

Then again, he had only hinted at the awful parts of his own life…

Maybe there was a reason everyone seemed to be protecting Dorian. Maybe Cullen was truly an awful choice for someone as fantastic as Dorian. Perhaps he had a better choice waiting for him back home, a lover he had spent many months – years – with and Cullen was just some arranged marriage who happened to be with a man so the mage agreed anyway. Not that Cullen could necessarily blame Dorian for doing something like that. He might have done the same in his place, which he sort of did, didn’t he?

Cassandra sighed from her spot and pushed off from the wall, giving him a very strange look. “Perhaps you ought to speak with him. I have come to learn Dorian prefers those around him to be honest with him. A very refreshing attitude from a Tevinter mage.” She gave him a very final nod and finally exited his office, leaving him to sit there and brood over everything that had been said. And the Commander knew he probably shouldn’t speak of this with Dorian. He could only imagine what would happen if he told the admittedly very attractive man that, hey, I have these sexy dreams too but I’m terrified of them so let’s just not approach the subject anytime soon, good?

Oh yes, that was certain to be one grand conversation.

Cullen dropped his head to his desk, an action quickly becoming commonplace for him, and heaved a sigh. Who even knew that this arranged marriage business would be so difficult? Maybe things would have been better if the ceremony was immediately after Dorian had arrived and they were stuck together anyway. The Commander shut his eyes, as if that could keep out everything he didn’t want to deal with that moment. Maybe he really should speak with Dorian, but it would have been far too awkward. On Cullen’s end, not Dorian’s. Obviously. He just sighed and kept his forehead resting on the cool table, trying to ignore the situation for the time being.

 

Ignoring the situation was incredibly difficult when there was someone pushing him back into sitting up who then settled into his lap. He barely opened his eyelids to see a head of neatly styled black hair disappear from his field of vision. Then lips were upon his neck and Cullen decided he could sink into this dream for the time being. That chuckle he heard was definitely the sound his dream Dorian liked to make when he knew he was the one in control. Or it was so far, as he only had a couple dreams. He should probably force himself to wake up, as he could vaguely remember that he had fallen asleep in his office and he couldn’t afford to have any recruits – or Maker fobrid Varric – come in while he was busy with a dream Dorian.

A hand slid around his neck to unhook the fur cape he wore draped down his back. “You are awfully pliant today, _Commander_.” He had still never told anyone, but hearing Dorian call him by his title did some strange things to him. Mostly in that he wanted to grab the mage, throw him against the nearest surface, and make it incredibly difficult for him to walk for the next few days. Which he actually wanted to just grab him then, throw him onto the desk, and go all out. Before he could even move his hands to try, he heard the sound of armor hitting the ground and he had to fight not to feel so suddenly exposed.

Before he could properly panic over it, he felt lips against his ear – that part was incredibly familiar – and a voice he knew well speaking to him. “We’re fine, Commander. I locked every single blasted door and told your troops you were taking a very well deserved break. Though I think they knew the truth; I am an irresistible man.” The mage chuckled and bit a little too hard on Cullen’s ear, making the man jerk back with a hiss of…

Pain.

Pain wasn’t normal in these dreams. Or any of his dreams. Not real pain, anyway; just lingering memories of pain and ghost aches. When that thought fully sunk in, Cullen’s eyelids shot open and he realized he was still in his office, with all the locks bolted. His eyes moved over to Dorian, who was sitting in his lap with a single brow arched. Oh _shit_. It wasn’t a dream. Without fully realizing it, Cullen’s hands come up to push the other male off of him as he bolted upright from his chair, staring down at the man now sitting on his ass on the floor. Dorian groaned and gave him a very displeased expression. “That’s not what I mean when I say I want my ass to be sore, you know. I had infinitely more pleasurable actions in mind.”

Cullen only stared at him for a long moment before turning around and striding over to one of the doors, unlocking it and holding it open. “You… should leave, Dorian.” The mage narrowed his eyes at the Commander, a look that made Cullen squirm from the guilt he felt. “I should leave? So… what? You confused me for some loose woman and I was such a let down when you decided to actually acknowledge me?” Cullen winced as the mage stood back up, immediately crossing his arms over his chest with a look of completely deserved fury. Maybe he should have spoken about this with Dorian, just as Cassandra had said. Maybe he would have been less furious with him when his advances – which were so welcomed when Cullen thought it was a dream – were spurned.

The Commander swallowed thickly and shook his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I can’t...” How did he explain this to Dorian without being offensive? While he was struggling to come up with the words, Dorian lost all patience and rolled his eyes, heading for the door. He stopped just long enough in the doorway to look at the Commander, his eyes narrowed in anger but Cullen also saw the hurt there and he wanted so badly to take back every moment since Dorian bit his ear. “Well, Rutherford-” Oh Maker, the mage had _never_ called him by his family name before. “I suggest you either work through these incredibly offensive hangups you seem to have over me, or you just keep your mouth shut until the wedding and afterwords, you can go find some blushing maiden.”

Cullen jerked violently when Dorian continued past him, ripping the door from his grip to slam it shut so hard, it actually bounced back open. In the opening, he could see a couple recruits watching Dorian’s retreat, along with an incredibly pissed off Sera. The elf looked at him, nocking an arrow in the bow he hadn’t even seen her pull off her shoulder. “Whut’s your problem?” He really wished he could answer that, he truly did. Dorian was fun, attractive, strangely sweet when he wanted to be, and able to command a crowd with his presence. Yet the Commander couldn’t allow himself to just fall into that knowledge and enjoy all the benefits of it.

Like what Dorian had started in his chair.

Cullen sighed and closed his door properly, leaving it unlocked as he took a seat at his desk again. He prepared himself, which helped some. For weeks, Dorian ignored him again. The day of the ceremony was drawing ever closer and the mage couldn’t even stand looking at his husband-to-be. It did strange things to Cullen, including cause him to lose vast amounts of sleep, shortened his temper, and made him entirely anti-social. Cassandra would shake her head at him while Varric just sighed and stopped inviting him to the games in the tavern.

And Cullen could handle that, all of it, if it meant he wouldn’t do anything else to hurt the beloved mage, Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only six chapters left, and I promise after the next two, the rest will take on much lighter tones. Except maybe the chapter where they finally tell each other everything, but that still won't be as dramatic. Cullen will come to his senses everyone! He will, because Dorian is too amazing not to.


	9. The One in Which There is a Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is upset and there's a special character appearance! Because this author thought of it Saturday and decided it had to be written.
> 
> Note: Again, no beta. And before anyone gets angry at me involving the section with Krem, please read the note at the end of the chapter.

For a few days, Dorian had sulked. He was depressed enough to admit to such a horrid habit, but it was entirely the _Commander’s_ fault and he was going to let the man off whatsoever. Maybe someone could argue that it was Dorian’s fault, for pushing something. He would have quit the second he thought something was wrong but Cullen had been completely pliant and Dorian could even tell the man had been about to actively participate. He even knew it had been Dorian; the mage heard his own name come from the man’s lips! Cassandra had been highly agitated when Dorian snuck away to her office, hiding where so few people found themselves. She had been reading, a secret Dorian guarded well for her, when she looked up and huffed.

“What could possibly be the matter now, Dorian?”

Oh, she could play the hard warrior all she wanted, Dorian knew she was just as nosy as anyone he had ever met and wanted all the details. Especially about his love life. Or lack thereof. He took a seat, arms crossed over his chest in that way he did when he didn’t want to bare himself but he would. “The Commander is an ass.” Cassandra hummed in agreement, then arched her brow at him, a signal to continue. “… fine. I had gone in there, and he looked like he needed a distraction, so I… started to provide one. It certainly wasn’t difficult on my end. Everything was going wonderfully; he was even about to reciprocate. But then he suddenly panicked and threw me to the floor, then threw me out. I am starting to get this distinct feeling I am going into another arranged marriage where I will just be miserable. At least he can find a blushing maiden for himself, I am rather limited.”

Cassandra stared at him, her expression unchanging at first. Then she sighed and rubbed her forehead with her thumb and index finger. She seemed to be even more exhausted by all this than Dorian. “I told him speaking with you would have been less insulting. I can assure you that our Commander finds you physically attractive, as well as mentally stimulating.” When Dorian waggled his brows at the Seeker, she actually cracked a smile before continuing. “He had some… dreams. He is unable to accept this change in how he has thought for many years. I tried to get him to speak with you about it, so you both could discuss his hang ups like the adults I had hoped you both were. Apparently the Commander is not quite so mature.”

“Oh, so I’m the mature one? What a change of pace.”

“Hush. I have always believed you to be incredibly mature under all that flaunting of yours. Though it would seem someone needs to get through to Cullen now.” When Dorian’s face wrinkled up in response to his name, Cassandra sighed. “Rutherford, then. Dorian, I suggest just finding the people you consider close for the time being and remaining close to them. I do not want some less than stellar experience with our Commander to destroy that insufferable confidence of yours.” At first, the mage just blinked owlishly at the Seeker; she had been completely serious. Then a slow grin stretched his lips as he leaned forward, chin on his palm. “It sounds like someone is hopelessly smitten. If only I wasn’t about to be a married man.”

“Or if you even had any interest in the fairer sex.”

“Details, dear Seeker. They are the bane of existence.” There was a fond huff from the woman as Dorian stood and made his way for the door. Hand reaching for the handle, he paused, wanting to look back but unable to for fear any true emotion was showing on his face. “Yes, well… I suppose before I leave, I should say thank you.” He cringed when he realized his voice could not remain steady, easily giving away the emotions he thought he could hide by not facing her. But Maker bless her, Cassandra said nothing about it and simply snorted, the sound of a nib on parchment reaching his ears. “We all know the Scion of House Pavus only shows his thanks through not being an utter ass. Now away with you; I cannot spend all my time stroking your ego.”

The mage left before he could make a joke about “stroking,” closing the door gently behind him then leaning against the wood. A few deep breaths and his typical smile was plastered on his face as he took the short few steps over to the tavern, walking inside to be immediately greeted by the cheers of “Dorian!” from Bull’s Chargers. Now that was genuinely warming and his smile became more of his real smirk, sauntering over to their corner of the tavern. “I see you lot waste no time terrorizing the drunks.” He stumbled almost violently when arms suddenly wrapped around his hips, partially dragging him down. Wide eyes searched down to find an incredibly inebriated Krem latched onto him. When the other Vint pouted at him, Dorian’s eye twitched.

“Pretty boy, Bull ain’t here.”

The mage looked around to realize no, there was no giant Qunari ass at the moment. How awful. He actually enjoyed the big lug. A sigh escaped him before he reached down to push Krem back into a seat before he hurt himself. “I’m certain the animal is doing his best to prepare some pseudo-romantic setting to sufficiently allow you to sleep.” He knew Bull, the man-bull-thing was certainly never going to sleep with someone this drunk, especially not his second-in-command. “And if you must be placated by _something_ , I suppose I can tell you about my research.”

“… resack?”

“Close enough.” Not really, but he was not about to argue with a drunk. He knew from experience it was impossible; mostly, from what he remembered of others arguing with him. “I am looking into some ancient Tevinter magic to see if I can find a spell or potion to help you with your… situation.” When Krem furrowed his brows, clearly trying to work through what he meant without getting close at all, Dorian sighed and leaned over to whisper to him. “I am looking into magic to change your body to the man I am fully aware you want. But I can make no promises, so don’t get too hopeful yet. I might only get far enough in my research to allow you to stop bindi-ow!”

The drunk Krem’s hug had become infinitely too tight – why in the name of the Maker did this man have Qunari strength? - face nuzzling into his hip. The mage’s shoulders slumped as he realized he was not going to get out of this hold, then he groaned when a door opened and he heard a familiar footfall. Iron Bull. He tilted his head back in time to see the Qunari leaning over the banister, smirking at him like Dorian being the prisoner of a drunk Krem was the funniest thing he had ever seen. “What’d you do, Vint? Krem isn’t usually so affectionate.”

Oh no, Dorian just had the dubious honor of always getting touchy-feely drunk Krem.

“I told him about my research. Since he was upset your gargantuan ass had magically disappeared from him.” Bull chuckled as he reached out to separate the non-magical Vint from the hips of the magical Vint. “You know you wish you could share. And have you gotten any further on that?”

“A bit. I can tell you both about it when Krem sobers up. And after you both have your roll in the morning. Seems I’ll be having more time to work on it until the wedding.” Dorian went for humor in his voice, but it apparently didn’t work since Bull just stared at him. Dorian waved off his concern and made his way for the stairs. “I’m going to go sit on the roof with Sera and throw cookies. Maybe we can catch the Commander walking by and get in a few hits. Wish me luck!” He headed up the stairs, knowing Bull was watching him in that calculating way he does when he already knows what the problem is.

Wonderful.

 

Weeks passed, and the wedding drew ever closer, a looming milestone in Dorian’s life that he was looking forward to as much as his announced engagement to that awful girl back in Tevinter. As he woke up and realized it was weeks away, less than a month, he threw on his clothes and marched across the keep. There were two people he was looking for, the first would help him find the second. Who knew the King would be such a difficult man to find? The mage snorted to himself as he finally found the door he was looking for, seeing the one person he wanted to see as much as the King.

“Josephine, my Antivan beauty!”

“You can’t go see him, Dorian.”

The Tevinter man’s face immediately fell before he huffed and crossed his arms. “Why not? I have something rather urgent to discuss with him.” He had more to spit out at her, but he noticed there was a slight bit of pink on the tips of her ears and Bull was rubbing off on him. He stared at the Ambassador for a few moments longer before his lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, spending some time with the Queen then?” Josephine shook her head, not in embarrassment but genuine denial of what he said. Oh, scandalous. “A mistress then? I suppose when you are the king.” Once again, the Antivan shook her head and Dorian pursed his lips. “Lady of the night? I can keep secrets when they involve the bedroom, you know.” Yet again she shook her head and Dorian’s lower eyelid twitched. “You’re insufferable!”

He threw his arms up and walked back out of her “office.” In the Grand Hall, he watched everyone pass while he sulked, just wanting to speak with the King. At that moment, he noticed an unguarded door hidden in the far corner of the Hall, right behind the throne. Being careful to keep the smirk off his face, he nonchalantly made his way to that corner of the room, acting like he belonged there. And really, the mage belonged _everywhere_ and that included what he was starting to believe was the king’s personal quarters. While everyone had their attention focused elsewhere, which Dorian would feel insulted over later, he slipped past the amazingly unlocked door and started up the stairs he found inside.

As he approached the top, he could hear the very distinct sounds of sex and rolled his eyes. That Antivan woman played him like the fool, didn’t she? Alistair may not have been with the Queen, but he was definitely with someone. Wait, was there even a Queen? Thinking back on it, he couldn’t remember any discussion of one and he had certainly never seen a woman standing next to him in such a manner. And as he finally reached a high enough point to peek into the bedroom, he immediately understood why.

Oh, it was definitely King Alistair up there, quite… _kingly_ as he thrust into the body under him. But that second body was decidedly male, something Dorian could easily see from the shape of his body. And an elf on top of that. Who had some very interesting tattoos, unlike any of the others he had seen on the elves back home or the Dalish who came to the Keep on occasion to rest, trade, or broker an agreement. Of course, Dorian would be noticing the strange markings on an elf instead of watching the proceedings with literally growing interest. Perhaps he was only interested in Cullen’s body anymore, which certainly made life incredibly difficult for him.

Dorian was pulled from his depressing musings when the markings on the elf started to glow. Blue. As the light grew more intense, so did a very familiar singing in his veins. Was that… lyrium? Oh shit. Dorian tried to duck and run in time, accurately assuming the building glow was in response to the elf about to climax, but everything suddenly shattered and his own magic responded by practically exploding from his body. He supposed at least it didn’t hurt, but it would have been like a beacon in a dark, moonless night, and left some marks on the wood. “… who is there?”

That was not Alistair’s voice, but it was weirdly sexy and if he could just take that voice and shove it into the body of Cullen, everything would have been completely perfect. Completely. Perfect. But then he heard a growl from that voice, and it was definitely a menacing sound, so Dorian sighed and moved back up to actually walk into the room. “That would be me.” Dorian almost jumped at the look of hate he got from the elf. Sure, he had _accidentally_ walked in on them, a legitimate accident. But that was no reason to hate him so. Embarrassment was an appropriate response, which wasn’t even the response of the King, who just sighed. “Relax, Fenris. Not all mages from Tevint-”

“He’s from Tevinter!?”

Dorian pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything that might get them both in more trouble with the angry elf. Instead, he watched them staring at each, the King oddly calm while the elf glared at him openly. “… perhaps I should walk down the stairs long enough for you both to get dressed?” At his question, both of the other men looked down at where their bodies were still joined before the elf growled and pushed Alistair off, immediately sliding under the blankets while the King was apparently fine in all his naked glory. To which Dorian found a curious lack of response from himself and just sighed, running his hand down his face. Then the King spoke, “He’s going to sulk for awhile, so what do you need?”

Dorian peered through his fingers, ignoring the way the elf was glaring at him from under the covers, then decided to tell Alistair about Cullen and all the thoughts Dorian had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to explain the section with Krem before people jump down my throat for "considering changing him" - as a trans man myself, there are few things I would hold more precious in this world than the chance to be physically who I am mentally, emotionally, and in my soul with no side effects and everything working and behaving as it should. None of what is discussed is because I think Krem isn't "right" unless he's changed, it's just... there are plenty of trans individuals who would love what Dorian was offering, and I believed Krem would be among them. Regardless, I will not be exploring that idea quite yet. Dorian has a lot of research to do, and I have to decide how far such magic could possibly go.


	10. The Infuriating Wrath of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essentially, Alistair lays down some laws. Legitimately.

Alistair could have been so many other places right then. Mostly, he could have been back in the main building of the Keep, teasing a certain elf until he scowled and literally dragged him off to some dark, secluded corner. Fenris was just too predictable and too easy to rile up. Though it might be a few days before he’ll speak to him again, after that whole “Dorian is a Tevinter mage” fiasco. The King sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, raising his other hand to knock on the door to Cullen’s office. He most certainly did not let out some girlish squeak when doing so nearly caused him to fall over, as the door had opened and another form practically ran straight through him. While Alistair managed to maintain his balance, the other body was not so fortunate, groaning on the ground. When he saw a very familiar head of blond hair, he sighed again. “You know, I’m beginning to think you can’t function without some sort of drama or chaos in your life. You legitimately cannot go through life without the sustenance of utter bullshit.”

The King stepped over his friend flat on the floor and closed the door as he took a seat in the corner. Huh. It smelled vaguely like whatever that admittedly delicious stuff was that Dorian wore all the time. Alistair had asked; Dorian just never revealed. If he had to guess, this was supposed to be Dorian’s chair. Well, the mage was currently spending all his time either in the library or graciously accepting an extra room Cassandra had next to her base of operations, so Alistair supposed he could steal the seat for the time being. His eyes moved over to the Commander, who was slowly picking himself back up off the floor. He apparently wasn’t going to speak yet, so the King decided to continue.

“You know, I’m starting to feel insulted at this point. I went through so many awful candidates for this arranged marriage business before I happened upon the gossiping around Dorian’s name and decided ‘ _hey, that’s the guy. He’ll marry a man, he’s from Tevinter and a mage, and he sounds like so much fun_.’ He was less fun after we met, until I got him to open up again, but still, I was right. As I tend to be. And he’s been ready to go on this plan since I told him. The only one messing this up for everyone is you, Cullen. Seriously, what is the problem now?”

He watched as the ex-Templar finally made his way back over to his desk and took a seat, his face immediately falling into his hands. Cullen did look to be exhausted, someone who took on all the guilt of every action of his. At least he knew he should be feeling awful over all of this; it was all getting too dramatic for Alistair’s liking though. It should have all been as easy as his own shit, being married to a queen who was never around and allowing him his very wonderful male lover. Well, in his wife’s defense, they had sort of married each other to get everyone else to fuck off since they both had interests in the same sex. He did wonder when Triniva and Eloise would be over for supper again.

Oh, wait, he should be focusing on all this loveliness.

He fucking hated being King sometimes.

As Cullen opened his mouth, Alistair had a very startling realization – he was the Maker damned King. He could do whatever he wanted. Barely a breath in, Cullen was stopped as Alistair suddenly stood up, a grin on his face. Oh, the King had some ideas. “Commander!” It was almost hilarious to see how Cullen straightened in his seat, an automatic response to a voice of authority. “As your King, I have some new, albeit temporary, laws to be put into effect.”

“I, ah… don’t under-”

“First! You are not **allowed** to see Dorian until the actual wedding day.” The way Cullen’s face pinched was so beautiful, and Alistair realized this could actually work. “Second, you are not allowed to so much as ask about his being, in any capacity. You can’t ask anyone how he’s doing, what he’s doing, where he’s at, et cetera.” The Commander’s face went from pinched to annoyed in the span of seconds, opening his mouth to argue but the King was not finished. “Third, you’re not allowed to leave this keep until the wedding.”

“Excuse me!?”

Alistair grinned at Cullen’s indignant fury, knowing how restless the man got when he was busy being consumed by worry or guilt. Now the “ _law_ ” was going to make him sit there and stew in his own thoughts. Sometimes, being the King could be incredibly fun. “And finally, I will send Dorian away and call off this whole thing if you try to subvert any of these new laws.” Finally finished, he sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the play of emotions on the Commander’s face. Then there came that puppy face and Alistair had already hardened himself to it. Quite a long time ago, actually. So he did nothing to respond, watching until Cullen scoffed and dropped his head to the desk, giving up. With a plan now in place, the King stood with a pleased grin. “And now that everything is settled, I am going to go back to Fenris… and Dorian.”

Cullen’s look was murderous as he left the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out, stuff has been happening one on top of another. Been a drain on the muses and creativity. Also, sorry for the short length of this chapter. I was going to write more, but... this seemed like a better place to end. With Alistair being very Alistair.
> 
> So, thank you all for being patient, I haven't given up on this story!


	11. Discussions of Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is now time for the ceremony and everyone seems to have the same opinion of the odd relationship between Dorian and Cullen.

Dorian resisted the urge to scowl at himself in the mirror, not wanting to see it mar his features. Instead, he looked back at Alistair and narrowed his eyes. “And you told him nothing about me still?” Dorian had heard about Alistair’s plan, which was asinine in his clearly important opinion. And perhaps a bit much; while he wanted all of this to work and the Commander to at least like him enough to make it work, he certainly didn’t want to force the man to do so. The king just snorted gracelessly, which turned to a glare downwards as Fenris interjected with his own snort, thin arms crossed over his chest and looking mighty uncomfortable to be in a room with Dorian.

“Well, before Spikes interrupted me, I was trying to say I haven’t said a word to him. All of that is your story to tell, your struggles to share. That’s none of my business. Though you both wouldn’t have needed **anyone else** if you had just, I don’t know, spoken like normal people.” Dorian saw the elf’s mouth open to insert his own opinion, but the king slapped a hand over his mouth, a weirdly strained smile on his face. The mage was going to have to ask about that later. For the moment, he shifted his weight to his other leg, making sure to convey all of his disbelief – and discomfort – in his stance. “Though you know, most people took my side, including you, oh wonderful King.”

“Oh, that’s the only way to get Cullen to sit down and actually think. He’s an incredibly intelligent man, that’s why he’s my Commander. But he’s always had a bit of trouble coming to grips with himself without something to push him there. Unfortunately, those have always been less than favorable.” There was a hint of sadness to his expression that Dorian wanted to scream about until he got some answers. Everyone seemed to be hinting at some dark past with Cullen and the mage wanted to know with every fiber of his being. Once again diverting the details, the king perked up immediately and pushed Fenris behind himself as he started to back out of the door. “Just remember, there is definitely a reason for all of this and you two seriously need to have a talk!”

And with that, the insufferable king was out the door.

Dorian waited until the man was definitely gone before he sighed, reaching up to rub his left temple. So maybe Alistair was right, they needed to actually talk. Which apparently the mage was the one making that difficult; he refused to admit any of them were right. It was not his fault that if Cullen had just made this easy, they wouldn’t have needed to talk in the first place. He turned to the mirror to see himself pouting in the white, formal version of his normal clothing. Those awful Fereldan robes were not about to happen, not if they wanted things to go smoothly. He supposed at least the color was quite fetching with his dark tan skin, a color he couldn’t seem to find very often on these Southerners. Surely that was just another reason any man in his right mind would want the Tevinter mage.

He fell into the seat near him with a huff, his cheek resting on his knuckles. He heard footsteps outside of his still open door and looked back in time to see Cassandra go walking by, a strangely pleased expression on her face. “Cassandra!” Oh, he hadn’t meant to actually call out to her, but she stopped regardless and looked into his room, a curious expression lifting her eyebrows. “Did you need something, Dorian?”

“Not… particularly, no. But I have never seen you look so pleased. What’s up with that?”

She blinked once before a smile stretched her lips, opening up her face in a way Dorian hadn’t actually seen before. “Well, it would seem the King has not been nearly so idiotic as I have been led to believe. That, or he simply understands the Commander far better than any of us. I have returned from an incredibly long conversation with Cullen. I suppose the King was also correct as to how the others have come to trust me implicitly.” Dorian sat up straighter and opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stop him, the smile fading somewhat. “I cannot share what we discussed, Dorian. But you both definitely should speak after the ceremony. I believe you both have quite a bit to learn about each other.” Like a mother hen, she came over long enough to make sure his hair was in place before leaving to continue in the direction she had been going in the first place.

He sincerely hoped her happiness meant pleasant things for him.

Or, in all honesty, he actually hoped it meant Cullen wasn’t going to hate everything about their lives coming together like this.

For another hour, Dorian just sat in the room, finally taking a moment to think about all of this properly and without denial.

 

Dorian definitely was **not** fidgeting as he stood in front of the entire crowd sitting in pews, next to Cullen. Who definitely **was** fidgeting and wasn’t that slightly endearing? At least the hand intertwined with his using the vines found near both their homes wasn’t shaking or sweaty. He would have been cringing at him the entire time, making the ceremony ugly. And himself. And that was not about to happen, was it? Suddenly, he felt a change in pressure on his hand and subtly looked down to see Cullen had, in fact, tightened his grip. His eyes moved back up to look at the Commander from the corner of his eyes and absolutely did not feel his body flush from the boyish grin waiting for him.

Well, the Commander was taking this exceedingly well.

The mage thought he was the one looking forward to this, yet here he was panicking in his own unique way and the Commander looked as if this was a normal part of his everyday routine. What had happened during the last couple of weeks? He was wondering if he should trust all of this, considering the unique situation and what had transpired beforehand. He considered looking back to glare at the King and accuse him of using some sort of blood magic to bend Cullen’s will to his own, but he had a very difficult time believing that himself. As he listened to the voice of the sister drowning on in the background, Dorian found himself staring down at their hands again, held together by the vines. He should stop this, shouldn’t he? Keep Cullen from making some mistake… and keep himself from being bound to a man who didn’t seem to be as interested in men as everyone else seemed to think.

He startled some as he was forced to turn, now facing Cullen head on as their other hands were bound together by vines. Still, there was they boyish grin and Dorian wanted to demand what the Commander could possibly be thinking to make him so ridiculously happy on their wedding day. He had started to open his mouth to actually let the words fall free, but Cullen stopped him by letting his forehead drop to Dorian’s own and actually staring him in the eyes. That was no reason to freak out, this was part of the ceremony after all. But those eyes were incredibly gorgeous so close and there was an intensity in them that threw the mage off. What was he seeing? This was incredibly weird and Dorian found himself wanting to both stop the ceremony to demand answers and to let it keep going to see what came of it.

And then there was a kiss to his forehead and the ceremony was over.

Dorian felt like he was trapped in some whirlwind afterwords. Everything happened so fast, despite him merely sitting next to Cullen most of the time. It wasn’t until they were nearing the end of the evening that Cullen finally turned to him. “Dorian, I think you’re throwing everyone off. You’ve barely said two words since this all began and I’m pretty sure you’re more talkative than Varric.” So, maybe the Commander was right, but Dorian didn’t feel like speaking just to make people feel better. Instead, he looked at the taller man and arched a brow at him. “I apologize Commander, I was just under the impression you didn’t wish to do go through with this.”

Cullen sighed and ran a hand over his face, looking a little more than worn out. “Dorian, I promise I will have an actual conversation with you after, ah… after the wedding night.” Oh dammit, that was still a thing, wasn’t it? This was going to be awkward beyond all reason, and that was only if he could convince Cullen to actually consummate the marriage. “For now though, I’m actually… all right with this. Or, more than all right. I’m not going to get everything perfect, mind you, but who really does?” Dorian supposed that Cullen did make quite the point there. He decided to drop the very confusing and tiring subject for the time being, just letting the Commander keep a hold of his hand as the party went on around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the wait, but everything should officially be done now. At least everything that was zapping my energy and muse. I hope to have the last three chapters done by the end of this week to finish up before next week, but we shall see. Anyway, the next chapter shall be the one to give this story it's rating so woo! And then just some wrapping up and epilogues and the like.
> 
> Mysterious.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for your support thus far! It does mean quite a bit to me, especially as I start working on the outlines for a new story. Sorry, no Cullrian focus, but Dorian and Cullen do still have their place.


	12. In Which Something Finally Happens Between Husbands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essentially, this is where the explicit rating comes in. You know, finally.
> 
> And this is the first time I've decided not to fade-to-black, so I hope I haven't completely screwed it up. As always, no beta, so all mistakes are mine and this chapter did get away from me so I'm sure there are a few.

Cullen may have been the one to mention their _wedding night_ but that certainly didn’t make him feel any less awkward about it. Though, in his defense, he would have been just as awkward with a bride. Just as awkward as he was right then, standing in the middle of Dorian’s room – as he refused to do anything in Cullen’s cold, drafty in-office bedroom like thing – and watching the other man who seemed to be feeling just as awkward. He supposed this would be incredibly confusing to the mage, as he had pushed Dorian away a little violently the last time anything happened. Which was just another reason Cullen felt so strange about all of this.

So instead of throwing himself into a weird position in which Dorian only ended up more confused, and angry, and Cullen himself more confused, he decided to take a seat on the bed and ran a hand over his face. He gestured for Dorian to come closer and take a seat, which he thankfully did with only a roll of his eyes. “Before I try anything, I figured I should share at least part of everything I’ve thought about. There’s a lot more to share tomorrow though, when we’re maybe both feeling a little less… uh...”

“Like we are stranded in some previously undiscovered foreign land?”

Cullen blinked a bit owlishly at Dorian’s words then nodded. “Right, that. I’m not going to explain the process or anything right now, but I’m all right with this. I mean, as much as I can be, considering I’ve never actually… with a man… before.” He rubbed the back of his neck as Dorian arched a brow at him. He both loathed that expression and thought it was incredibly sexy. “Don’t give me that look, I can’t concentrate when you do that. I just want to make sure that I don’t completely mess this all up.” Dorian was still giving him that look and all he could manage was to keep his hand on the back of his neck, his formal armor – he laughed at the idea – suddenly hot and suffocating. Then the mage started to stalk towards him, Cullen’s back straightening more and more the closer the shorter man got. Oh, this was going to get a little intense, wasn’t it?

When Dorian was close enough that their chests were almost touching, he finally stopped with that signature smirk on his lips. The Commander began to wonder if this had been a mistake, telling the mage that he was all right with what was going to happen. “So, _Commander_ ,” he started with a voice that made Cullen want to toss him to the bed and rip clothes. “You **are** saying that you have finally come to terms with the fact that I am irresistible and we should spend our time in bed together?” Cullen heard the question that came with the words, and resisted the urge to start squirming and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Instead, he willed his heart to calm down just enough to move forward and press his lips to the other man’s. It was, admittedly, a rather chaste kiss but Cullen hoped it was enough to prove his point. He started to pull away, just barely getting a glimpse of Dorian’s annoyed face before the shorter man huffed and grabbed the front of his tunic to pull him into an infinitely more passionate kiss. For a moment, all Cullen could do was sag into the kiss, his body rather useless to him as he enjoyed the feeling of strangely smooth lips against his own. Before he could wonder how Dorian was the only man in the world without chapped lips, the mage _whined_ and Cullen was brought back to himself enough to chuckle before slipping his hands up to Dorian’s hair – oh, he got to mess it up now~ - to keep him close.

After a few moments of their lips moving together, Cullen decided to nip gently at the mage’s lower lip, eliciting a gasp that gave him a perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in along the other man’s. He just barely kept his grin from stretching his features as Dorian finally started to sag against him. Ever the opportunist, his hands moved down to start popping buttons free as he slowly moved his husband – his _husband_ \- back towards the bed on the other side of the room. It was strangely satisfying to realize he apparently had a method to render the mage speechless and under his control.

Which sounded a bit too strange to Cullen and he was never going to think that again.

He must have been too focused on his weird thoughts as Dorian huffed somewhere in front of him before the world was tilting around him. The Commander landed on the bed and barely had time to reorient himself before the other man was straddling his hips, his signature smirk on his face and that was entirely too arousing. “So, Commander, I see you are _incredibly_ interested and I haven’t even removed anyone’s clothes yet.” Cullen opened his mouth because he truly had a comment to fire back, but the man chose that moment to grind his hips into Cullen’s and even through all the clothes, the friction to his “incredibly interested” erection was amazing.

Dorian chuckled as Cullen did his best not to choke on his own oxygen, tan hands moving to quickly divest Cullen of, well, almost every article of clothing he had been wearing. He blinked a bit dumbly, not sure when so much of his skin had suddenly been bared to the cool air, but he found it difficult to complain when the other man leaned down to trail open mouthed kisses down his neck. In fact, he found it difficult to do more than groan and go back to his rather vain attempts at getting Dorian undressed. Honestly, did he wear anything that wasn’t complicated? Plenty of idiotic finger fumbling later and Cullen huffed, throwing his head back further into the pillow to glare at the ceiling, Dorian’s face out of view. “Why are all your clothes so complicated?”

He felt a puff of a laugh against his collarbone before a very amused voice rang out. “Because I wished to know if the dear Commander has any finger dexterity and I am woefully underwhelmed.” Underwhelmed? Cullen felt strangely upset over this information and found the energy – and focus – to launch himself upright and flip them both at the same time, hovering over the other man’s very confused face and resting between his legs. There had been something on his mind about how he was about to overwhelm the mage, but his throat refused to work as he went about fixing the problem by merely ripping Dorian’s clothes.

The indignant squawk made the moment so much more beautiful.

“These were well-made!” Cullen stared at him for a moment before ripping the trousers as well, staring at Dorian’s face as he glared at the Commander. “Hey, if you had decided to wear something I could take off more easily on our wedding night, this wouldn’t have happened. You have no one to blame but yourself.” He could tell the mage was going to argue, so before he could get out another word, Cullen’s hand moved down to run fingers over the other man’s length. He could feel the smirk stretching his own lips when Dorian was cut off by his own surprised grunt. Maybe not as pretty a sound as the gasp he was hoping for, but it certainly had the same effect of halting the argument.

Once that thought passed, his touches almost came to a stop as he realized exactly what he had been doing. Though he didn’t come to a complete halt, there was enough of a lull for Dorian to sit up and Cullen found himself pulling back from the determined expression on his face. “What are you pla-?” He never got a chance to finish as the mage practically pounced him in his rush to pull the Commander back into a searing kiss, hands slowly moving down Cullen’s body as they mapped out bare skin, Cullen having practically forgotten he had already been divested of most of his clothing. Though if pressed to find all his articles of clothing later, everyone would be left wanting – the Commander could see that Dorian had thrown them off to the side like they would never be needed again. “I guess that says something about your enthusiasm.”

Dorian scoffed as he pushed in the middle of the Commander’s chest, until he was flat on his back. “I have been enthusiastic since the very beginning.” Cullen cringed and he meant to say something about how he was just having a hard time adjusting, he was legitimately sorry, he was past that phase. But Dorian _tutted_ at him before smirking, hands unlacing the breeches before sliding them off and tossing them aside like the rest of his clothing. “If you spoil this moment too, I will set **all** of your hair on fire. Though I fail to see how you can at this point, considering you apparently decided there would be no need for pants.” The mage eyed the Commander’s completely bare groin, Cullen pressing a hand to face to hide the pink he just knew was staining his cheeks.

“I thought it would be pointless...”

“Oh, it’s definitely pointless, Commander. I certainly appreciate the consideration.” He just knew Dorian was smirking without even looking at him, which was perhaps a mistake as apparently the mage was not one for subtlety or slow going. Cullen almost shot straight back up when he felt a tongue run along the underside of his length, taking a moment to swirl around the head before beginning the journey again. “D-dorian, wai-oh Maker.” He was torn between looking down to watch the man whose lips were now wrapped around the head of his erection, or pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and trying not to encourage the mage. Cullen had all these plans of taking it slow their first time together, as a way to make up for what happened last time Dorian tried anything.

Which Cullen was still a bit upset over since it had come out of nowhere while he was miles away mentally, but it had been a touch rude to push him to the floor like that.

It was quickly becoming clear that Dorian had none of the same plans as Cullen; a moan slipped past his lips as the mage between his legs took in more of him. He wanted to sit up, to tell Dorian that he was more than aroused already, and he really wanted to make this pleasurable for the Tevinter man as well, but the moment he tried to sit up, there was a glare directed at him that effectively silenced him. Then the mage chuckled, the sound causing a vibration that did have Cullen shooting upwards and pulling away from Dorian. The glare was back but the Commander moved forward to press his hands to Dorian’s mouth before he could say anything. He took several deep breaths before he could finally speak. “Don’t… don’t get upset. That was too close to being too much and I, ah, wasn’t ready for it.”

Dorian arched a brow at him and Cullen finally pulled his hands back to see the smug smirk on the man’s face. He expected some sort of smug remark or some sarcastic comment. Instead, the mage pushed him back to the bed again and leaned over him to go digging through the remnants of clothing on the ground. When he finally sat back up, straddling the Commander’s hips, he brought a vial of oil with him. Once the realization set in, Cullen found his mind rather devoid of thought, instead hyperfocused on watching Dorian pull the stopper free and letting some of the oil drip to his fingers. Those same fingers disappeared behind Dorian and when the man above him groaned, Cullen’s teeth clenched until he found feel tendons rolling. He was going to have to be the one to prepare the mage next time, a thought that came easily to him as he watched Dorian’s face devolve from an expression of concentration to one of pleasure. Cullen was _definitely_ going to have to do this part next time, to see how long he could drag out that pleasure and how deeply he could affect the mage.

He was startled from his thoughts when a slick hand wrapped around his erection and coated the skin with more oil. Cullen swallowed thickly when Dorian chuckled and leaned over to kiss him again, the action a little more languid than before. The mage barely pulled away, just enough to speak with his lips still brushing against the Commander’s. “You know, Commander, this would be far more enjoyable if you stopped crossing the Waking Sea and stayed in the bedroom with me.”

With that, Dorian sat up again and reached behind himself to hold Cullen’s length in place as he slowly breached himself with the head. Cullen’s hands had taken a death grip of the fabric underneath him, wanting instead to reach out and grab his hips but keeping himself restrained when he realized Dorian was already biting the inside of his lip. For a second, he wondered if perhaps this was hurting the mage, but once again his mind blanked as the man suddenly slammed himself down, taking in all of him at once. Immediately after, the Commander wanted to ask Dorian if he was hurt, wanted to ask if this was a bad idea, because how could that have been anything but painful when Dorian was no longer moving?

When he managed to open his eyes to look at the mage, the man was already staring right at him, a touch of a smirk on his lips. “Oh, no, Cullen. I’m no longer moving because this feeling, this burn, is my favorite part.” He wondered when he had voiced his concerns out loud, then he wondered if he should be concerned about this idea of burning, but Dorian started to rock his hips and Cullen dropped his head back down to the pillow with a low groan. Distantly, he heard the sound of his fingers ripping the blanket under him, unable to care when the feeling of his _husband_ rocking himself on his erection was so all-consuming. He could hear the now breathless chuckle of Dorian somewhere above him and reached out to pull the man down to slot their mouths together.

It was a bit of a sloppy kiss, though it hardly lasted longer than a moment before Dorian pulled away with that gasp Cullen had so desperately wanted to hear. He grinned and pulled out slightly before thrusting back in, the mage dropping his head to Cullen’s neck. He was definitely going to have to convince Dorian to allow him to go at his own pace next time, but for the time being, he was already overwhelmed by the pleasure of just being joined as they were. With Dorian sucking spots onto his neck he knew would stay there for days, Cullen wrapped his arms around the mage and flipped them both over quite easily, staring down at the surprised expression and blown pupils of the man now under him.

Finally trusting himself not to break anything, the Commander took a hold of Dorian’s hips and rather quickly built up an intense pace of thrusting into the man. He would have preferred a slow build – for everything to have been a slow build – but he had been spurred on by the steady stream of moans and gasps from the mage that grew in volume. Though he had stuttered and almost lost control completely when Dorian had groaned out some mangled version of “ _Cullen_ ”. At which point he leaned forward to trail nips and kisses down the arched neck, an action that quickly turned into biting down and snapping his hips as he felt thankfully blunt nails dig marks down his back. And then Dorian was arching into him with a shout of his _title_ , nails digging crescents into his back as he felt a telltale wetness hit his stomach. But those feelings were all secondary to the sudden tightness around his length. It was almost difficult to move, excluding the fact he was starting to lose his own rhythm as he felt his own climax rushing through him.

Cullen let out a growl he had never used before as he trust into the man once more before reaching his own climax. His entire body went still as he gripped the man’s hips – he would apologize for the bruises he was sure to leave in a moment. It took several moments before his body finally relaxed again, gently slipping out Dorian though the mage still made a bit of a displeased face. And with a lack of finesse that had the mage chuckling, Cullen dropped to the bed beside him, face first. He felt movement before there was a warm body partially draped over his back, careful of the welts left in lines down his back.

“You know, you should have told me you were the fierce Commander in bed too.”

“Hnng. I plan on going slower next time, and I will not allow you to seduce me into doing otherwise.”

Dorian let out a bark of a laugh at that and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck before pushing the Commander onto his side so they could both fall asleep “snuggling properly”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my plans to have the story finished by now went to the wayside. My phone decided to get stuck in a system software boot loop, and getting the replacement took more work than it should've. Which, I still don't have it yet, it's just finally on the way. Next to that, there's been some rather grim news with the family this past week and it's made it impossible for me to sit and focus on writing much of anything.
> 
> Hopefully, the next two chapters come to me a bit more easily. This was just difficult to write because I had a hard time getting into the mindset of writing smut.
> 
> But thank you all for your patience and support regardless!


End file.
